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Jesus | Eyes On Me | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “The only thing that matters is who you are in Me.”

Requested: Yes

You have always felt like an outcast amongst Jesus’ followers. Jesus reassures you that it does not matter what others think of you, and that perfection is the last thing He requires.

Note: I’m not on the spectrum myself but tried my very best to display it respectfully. If there is anything you think I should change, please let me know!

Laughter reaches you across camp, but you remain in your tent, hunched over your bowl of beads. The necklace you’ve started stringing ever since daybreak is long past its required length and could be looped over five, six, seven times, but you don’t feel like stopping. The familiar wooden texture is comforting to you, and even though you do not see the colours anymore in the low light of the few torches around camp, which causes everything to be a blur of grey and black at this point, you have settled upon a pattern in shape – one big bead, then three small ones, a medium sized one, three small ones again, and another big one. 

You continue like that for a while, the bowl becoming more and more empty as you work in silence. Every so often, talking and laughter streams from the fire towards your place, but you do not pay it any mind.

Joining them would make you feel uncomfortable. They already seem to have a great time without you, so you reckon they weren’t missing you to begin with. You’ve learnt to have peace with it. You maintain your distance, not seeing yourself in any position within that group. 

Everyone has a close friend they hang out with often. The brothers of Thunder have one another, Simon and Andrew, Nathanael and Thaddeus. Even Matthew has managed to grow close to Philip, despite his social anxiety. 

And you? Where does that leave you? 

You know that you’re different from them. You’ve always heard it from the children in your village. You’ve always heard it from your parents, from your father, who had you help out in his shop from a young age. And when he passed away and your mother couldn’t keep it up and running, eventually forced to shut it down, you fell into a dark pit, feeling utterly lost within society and within life.

Somewhere in the distance, Andrew barks a laugh as Simon Zee shouts something, earning a cheer from Philip in turn. You jolt at the unexpected sound. With a heavy sigh, you halt in your actions.

Will you ever belong?

A knock on the frame of your tent nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “(Y/n)?” a familiar voice sounds close to the opening flap. It contains no pressure nor hurry, yet Jesus’ voice is always so disarming and warm that you can’t do anything else but respond.

“Yeah?”

“May I come in?”

You are silent for a second. “Yes.” you then say, even though you were more than content in your loneliness this evening. If there was anyone to come and keep you company, you are glad that it is Him.

He moves aside the flap and light streams inside from the fire and the lantern that He is holding in front of His face, a kind smile on his features. “I was already wondering where you were.” He muses, stepping in and closing the tent again to give the two of you some privacy. “Are you alright?”

You shrug and twirl the necklace you’ve been working on around your fingers, fiddling with it so that you don’t need to look Him in the eye. Jesus patiently sits next to you, placing down the lantern before clearing His throat. 

“So, I missed you during dinner and now you’re sitting here whilst the rest is at the fire. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

With a small shake of your head, you sigh. “I… I’m not much of a talker.”

“Oh, I know. But sometimes it is necessary to get to the root of things.”

Brow furrowing, you tilt your head slightly to the side so that you can see Jesus from the corner of your eye. “What do You mean by that?”

Jesus hums and takes a moment to formulate a reply. “Something is weighing heavy on your heart. Do not be afraid to share that burden with Me.”

Nothing ever stays hidden from Jesus, you are fully aware of that, and you do not like lying, especially to Him, so you swallow thickly and open your mouth to speak, better to reveal it now than to delay the inevitable.

“I don’t think the others miss me.” The words sounds alarmingly cool.

“Hm. What makes you think that way?”

“Because I’m… Different.”

“Different how?”

Turning your head, you finally dare to look at Jesus, who is giving you an expectant look.

“I think You know that,” you say with a tone that remains respectful. “That I’m different.”

Suddenly, tears sting behind your eyes. You have never cried about this. You never cry in the first place. But Jesus is smiling so understandingly that it almost lures said reaction from you. You avert your gaze, rubbing your neck. A few tears slip out regardless of your battle against them.

“Different how?” Jesus repeats. It is not that He hasn’t heard you, or that He hasn’t understood you. He wants another response than the one you had just given Him.

You think over your answer for a moment. “My mind works in another way,” you state, “They don’t understand me and I don’t understand them. It’s like… We’re speaking different languages. As if we’re not from the same country. I-It’s nothing new, even my mum has just… Given up on me? She doesn’t say it outright, but I know that… That I’m just… I feel like a burden.”

Silently crying, you find Jesus’ gaze.

“And how does that make you feel?” His question stings, for you’re not fond of talking about such emotions. With a dry sob, you take up the necklace you had draped into the bowl and start playing with it again, wrapping and unwrapping it around your fingers, the thin fishing line you had found amongst the supplies digging into your skin. 

“It makes me feel sad,” you say through the blur of your tears, “I-I don’t like to talk about it. Can we talk about something else?” You rapidly blink to force back your tears. 

Jesus is quiet and stares at you for a minute or so, making you squirm on your spot under his scrutiny. You sniffle.

“I think it is good that you empty your heart to Me. You’re being very brave, (Y/n). I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay?” He queries. You nod, but flinch anyways, although you relax after a moment. “How much do you think this matters in the Kingdom of God?”

Puzzled, you frown, your cheeks feeling raw. “What do You mean, Rabbi?”

“Let me tell you something. Everyone has different talents, different things they are good at. For example… What is Philip good at?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and rub your runny nose on your sleeve. “Hm… He’s good at reciting Scripture. He’s very well-read, very knowledgeable.”

“Right. How about Nathanael?”

You shrug but can’t fight the watery smile. “He’s always brutally honest. It does get him in trouble from time to time, though.” Jesus chuckles at that.

“Right. And Simon?”

“He’s a good leader.” you reply.

Jesus smiles. “And you ?”

Silence. Fresh tears well up in your eyes.

“Do you trust Me, (Y/n)?” Jesus asks.

“Of course I do, Rabbi,” you immediately tell Him without an ounce of doubt in your being. Your voice quivers. “More than anyone.”

He gives a friendly nod. “I know, my Daughter. You know very well who you are in Me. So, I will ask you again. What are you good at?”

“I…” you squint, shoulders slumping. “I… Don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I see?” 

You nod meekly, rubbing your raw cheeks with the back of your hand. Jesus cups your face carefully and inhales. “I see someone who focuses on the differences compared to the others in the group, but that is not what determines who you are. I know you struggle to find a true connection to the others in the group. Trust me when I say that these people will become your friends, but you should first see your own worth. The Kingdom of God requires many different people. If they were all the same, how uninspiring would that be? It would be but a shell of what love could be. No, the Father can use anyone, no matter the circumstances.”

His words make you emotional, so your voice wavers when you ask for clarification: “But what does that have to do with me ?”

There is never reprimand behind His eyes yet you shrink. He thumbs away your tears.

“You’re someone who is unswervingly loyal to Me.” Jesus says, “Your faith is so strong that it will withstand any storm. You are also very honest. That is very admirable about you. ”

Your cheeks turn red and you look at your lap, where your hands are still wrapped up in the necklace. 

“What matters is not who you are as an individual, (Y/n),” Jesus says. The words sound odd and you’re about to ask what He means with that, when you realise there is another part to that sentence: “ The only thing that matters is who you are in Me. You find your identity in Me, as do the others. That is what connects you, what brings you together. Try to hold onto that when you go out there to speak to them. You may not understand it yet, but a firm foundation built on Me will bring people together, no matter their differences.” 

“I still don’t completely understand,” you say in all fairness.

“That’s okay,” Jesus replies. “The Spirit will eventually guide you there. You will understand with time. You always belong if you trust in Me - you belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. Even if you don’t always feel like it, I will never forsake you. Do not forget that.” 

You smile at Him, a bit more at ease. Your fingers relax and the necklace slips back into the bowl of beads. 

“Thank you, Rabbi,” you state. “That was very kind of You to say.”

Jesus laughs and opens His arms. “May I give you a hug?”

You accept Jesus’ embrace without hesitation, burying your face into the crook of His neck, whilst He smiles softly. You weep, shoulders shaking, and He holds you through it as you let your pent up sorrow go. It makes place for hope, patience and trust, for it relieves your heart. Jesus doesn’t pressure you and holds you for as long as He needs to, not letting go. 

You are the first one to pull away and wipe your face dry, sniffling a few times. “I feel so much better already. I really needed that.”

When Jesus smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle up slightly.

“Now, on that note, shall we both head to the fire? I believe that Mary has kept some fruits apart for you and Thomas wanted to show you a trick he has learnt.”

Your eyes widen. “They’ve asked about me? I-I mean, okay.”

Jesus stands and takes the lantern before holding out His hand to you so that He can help you up. You follow Him out of the tent, towards the fire, where warmth and careful company welcome you.

John the Apostle | One Day | Romantic

In spite of the bride being beautiful at the wedding in Cana, John only has eyes for the brightness surrounding you. 

Requested by Heather

“Okay, that’s— Ouch, that’s a bit tight!”

“Sorry,” Mary quips, “I’m not that good with braids… Uh, let’s see, it’s becoming a bit loose here—” 

“It’s fine, I’ll just—” 

You stand from your chair and tuck your hair behind your ears a little, walking over to the mirror. The braids Mary has attempted to create are a little asymmetrical, but neat enough. You give her a kind smile over your shoulder, which she mirrors nervously. 

“I don’t do other people’s hair all that often, and I—”

You let out a small noise at how apologetic she is, causing her words to hitch

“Mary, it’s fine. They’re very pretty. Thank you.” 

She smiles a bit.

“Are you serious? Aren’t you just saying it to make me feel better, now?” 

You give a small shake of your head, looking back at the mirror to tuck a few stubborn strands into place. 

“I’m serious. Have I ever lied to you?” 

Mary hums and smiles a bit, rubbing her neck. “Ah, I guess not.” 

“I really appreciate this, Mary. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do.” 

You slide your veil back over it in a way that it is still visible that something has been done to it.

A knock on the door and the voice of a slightly rushed John sounds from the other side. “Can you girls hurry? We have to leave before we—” 

You pull open the door before he can finish his sentence, and for a moment he stands with his mouth wide open on the threshold as he takes you in. It is obvious your (h/c) locks are differently placed than normal, and it frames your face in a certain way that has John’s heart skip a beat inside his chest.

“We’ll be right there.” you pipe up. It takes John a second to gather himself before he clears his throat. 

“Oh, um… Yes, of course. Your… Your hair, it’s… Uh… Different.” 

You nearly frown a little but manage to keep your face in check. After all, it doesn’t necessarily sound like a compliment.

“Ah, thank you. Mary fixed it for me.” 

John gives you a slow nod, trying his best to tear his gaze away from your face. He clears his throat once more, blinking as he steps back. 

“Ah, don’t be late. Jesus wanted to leave in a few minutes so that we’ll be arriving a short while before the ceremony, and… Well, you know.” 

“Of course.” 

The former fisherman pivots on his feet and heads back towards the others. Mary gives you a small, knowing smile.

“What?” you query when she raises an eyebrow at you. That look must mean something, although you aren’t certain what message it is supposed to convey.

“Nothing, just that I’m sure John thinks you look very pretty like that.” 

Your cheeks flame again at the notion. 

“It… It didn’t really sound like he enjoyed it a lot. He just said it looked different.” 

“I think he didn’t really know how to use his words.” Mary reassures you. You huff and shake your head, running your clamming palms down your dress.

“Nonsense, that’s just wishful thinking. John wouldn’t like me in that way, no way.” 

Mary hums and gives you another one of these looks.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n). Let’s go now, okay? The others are waiting for us.” 

You join the rest of the group, then head out to your meeting place, a little outside of Capernaum, where Jesus had agreed to catch up with you as well as a few other people - Thaddeus, Andrew and Simon as well as the two Jameses tag along as well. 

It’s already midday when you arrive, with the older son of Jonah reassuring his brother that everything will be alright, when Jesus walks up to the group with a kind smile on His features. 

“Perfect day for a wedding, huh?” 

“Master.”

“Simon, Andrew, Mary, (Y/n), James, John, Thaddeus. But where is uh…” 

As Jesus pauses in search of John’s big brother, Thaddeus is met with a piece of fruit against the back of the head and flinches.

“Uh-oh.” Jesus muses as James chuckles above you, already armed with another fruit. “Raining figs.”

“Figs for the journey.” James explains.

“Ah, how we won’t even need to stop for lunch!” 

He gracefully drops from the tree and lands on his feet, dusting down his tunic. 

“Thank you James.” Jesus says.

“Yes Master?” The curly-haired James standing in front of you asks, causing Jesus to straighten His back.

“Ah… Two Jameses. How will we solve this dilemma?” 

“Well, what if, uh… I go by Big James?” the taller James proposes. 

The others laugh a bit, including you.

“Is that acceptable to you, young James?” 

“Yes, I think that’s fair, Master.”

“And a sense of justice, too.” Jesus muses. “Then is settled. Now, to the road, my friends. The bride and groom await!”

A newfound tinge of excitement swells inside your chest. Weddings are always a fun celebration to attend. 

The ragtag group of people sets out to Cana, and you start your trek chatting with Mary about little things. “Have you ever been to Cana?” Mary wonders, at which you shake your head.

“I haven’t. Have you?” 

“No, and I also have never been to a wedding, either.” Mary responds.

“Ah, for me it’s… I think… My third one. My first one was my brother, the second one was Simon and Eden.” 

Mary’s lips part in surprise as she looks over her shoulder and you follow her gaze, but instead of meeting Simon’s face which you had expected to find, you look into the eyes of John. Your heart skips a beat as he quickly turns away, his jaw tightening. 

He looks like he has been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Had he been staring at you? You swallow hard as you mull it over — no, you’re certain that is definitely not what he was doing. Wishful thinking, nothing more, you remind yourself.

Upon turning back to Mary, you find her oblivious to that little moment you just shared with John. 

“How was it?” Mary wants to know. You absentmindedly hum, a bit puzzled by that probably quite insignificant encounter. It replays inside your mind over and over again.

“It was a good day.” 

Mary frowns. “Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” 

You clear your throat and attempt to redirect the attention on the casual conversation. “Anyways, let me tell you everything about the wedding of Simon and Eden…” 

As you explain all the ins and outs of your friends’ wedding, you carry on through the plains of Judea, on your way to the party. The promise of good food and wine at the end of the road lights everyone’s spirit enough to not complain about blisters.

—

Cana is what you expected — a small village, about half the size of Capernaum, with not much going on. You’re certain that most guests roaming about at the local inns are actually wedding guests that have already arrived early, living too far away to head back home in between the days of festivities.

Jesus leads the group through the narrow streets, knowing where He has to be. For a moment, you look over your shoulder to see if everyone is caught up with the rest, and feel your heart flutter when you sense John’s eyes on you again. Not much unlike last time, he swallows hard and tears his gaze away with what almost looks like effort. You could swear there is a hint of pink on his cheeks, but perhaps it’s the searing afternoon sun that has left him flushed.

You arrive at a set of double doors. Jesus pushes through first, revealing that the preparations are already in full action. “Knock knock, can we come in?” An older woman tosses aside a small bouquet as she flings herself in the arms of Jesus. Your Teacher chuckles and lifts her off the ground a bit to meet her embrace. 

“Hi eema! Oh, how are you?” 

You smile at the gentle greeting in front of you, finding it sweet that Jesus is so close to His mother. 

“I have missed You!” she muses softly, cupping His face as she gives Him a once-over. “Look at You! It’s been a while… Have you been eating?” 

“I have been eating.” Jesus reassures her, putting a hand on her shoulder as He turns towards the group. You smile at Jesus’ mother as she takes you all in.

“These people have been helping me to eat, so…”

“Hi, how are you?” she steps forward and starts introducing herself as Mary. 

“My students.” Jesus clarifies as she goes through the line-up of people eager to meet her. Mary is a kind woman who clearly loves her Son a whole lot. You hadn’t expected otherwise, really. 

“Shalom, I’m (Y/n).” You shake her hand as she meets your gaze with glittering eyes.

“It’s so nice to meet you! And you are?” 

“I’m John.” You startle at bit, not realising that the man in question had been standing so close to you.

“Hello John, shalom! And you two are…” She points between you, and a confused frown appears on both of your faces, “You know, married?” 

“Oh— Oh no!” you quickly say, shaking your head as you take on an almost defensive stance. Your cheeks flame as John sputters an equally negative answer.

“No— We are just friends!” 

Mother Mary tilts her head a little. “Not betrothed, then?” 

You let out a nervous sound as you shake your head. “No— No… No, we aren’t.” 

She gives you a look alongside a small, high-pitched murmur — you are unsure what it means — and carries on introducing herself. You let out a shaky breath as you plant your hands on your hips, turning to John, who seems equally as flustered.

“Well, that was awkward.” you try to lighten the mood, causing John to scratch his neck. 

“Yeah… Yeah.” 

You clear your throat and take in the place in front of you as to avoid both eye-contact and making the situation even more uncomfortable. Flowers and candles adorn the place, tables already having been set, and servants are rushing about to get everything in order. 

“This is nice.” you murmur. 

John’s eyes are on you again, but you don’t notice it. “Yes.” he whispers in response, “Very nice.” When you turn over your shoulder to give him a small smile, he quickly looks at the scene of the wedding again, at the slightly crooked chuppah, and for a second, something flashes inside his mind that he quickly shakes off. The thought is long enough to make his heart soar inside his chest.

When he turns back to you, he notices you’ve already turned back in the direction of Mary Magdalene, and he lets out a shaky breath as he watches you walk off. 

Behind him, Thaddeus smiles at what’s happening in front of him. 

The day carries on. You and Mary help out Jesus’ mother with the final preparations and get to know more about the bride and groom. You find out that the groom is Dinah’s son, Asher, and that the parents of his bride Sarah aren’t as keen on the idea of her marrying a man of lower stature, at least by their standards. You have never understood parents who don’t want their children to marry out of love rather than out of convenience or political gain.

A few hours later, the wedding begins with drinks, food and music. You sit with the other women as you sing blessings over the newly wed couple. The bride and groom are positively glowing and you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to stand there in the finest gown with your hand in… 

…You don’t dare finish that thought. Instead, you concentrate on singing the right words as you hold the shoulders of Mary Magdalene and a woman you don’t know. A large smile spreads over your face as you dance around the tables. 

A little away, John does the same with the men, a little off-key but not too bad, and even though he is thoroughly enjoying himself with the task at hand, he can’t help but let his gaze go over to the other table. He instantly finds you. It isn’t difficult to, for you stand out to him like a bright star in the night sky.

The way your (h/c) hair flows from under your veil as you dance the other women, the way you seem to be so at ease, it all comes together into a beautiful picture that John cannot tear his gaze away from. You look like a dream, with your smile reaching from ear to ear and the way your eyes sparkle, like the moonlight dancing on the Sea of Galilee. He could drown in them, he’s sure of it.

For a moment, John imagines that same thought that had been crossing his mind earlier — the two of you under a similar chuppah, saying your vows to one another. He allows the thought to linger this time, entertains it, almost tripping over his own feet, and as the song draws to a close, he almost forgets the cue to applaud. He is almost jealous of Mary and the other woman for getting to touch your shoulder and hearing you sing up close, even though he thinks it’s silly to feel that way.

The evening carries on with wine, blessings brought by the banquet master, and more music. Even though the food is wonderful, John can’t help but let his eyes drift from time to time. You’re having the time of your life. He can’t shake a nagging feeling inside his chest. The sun sets and the courtyard is illuminated by candles, bringing your features out even more. The former fisherman knows he isn’t supposed to stare, but he can’t help himself, tracing the edge of his empty wine cup with his finger as he sits with a few others at a table.

“She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?” Thaddeus whispers at John, who quickly seems to snap out of his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“You’re staring at her.” 

John lets out a scoff. “I’m not staring at (Y/n).”

Thaddeus chuckles lightly and gives John a look, smirking. “I didn’t mention her name, so you just confirmed it.” 

The younger son of Zebedee swallows hard and looks away, not liking the fact that he is apparently being obvious about it at this point. “Is it that clear, huh?”

Thaddeus hums. “I’m surprised you haven’t walked up to her yet to talk to her.” 

“I… I can’t. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.” 

The former stonemason shrugs. 

“By all means, do what you feel like is best. But I have seen the way you two look at one another.” 

John’s cheeks flush.

“You… She… How does (Y/n) look at me, then?” 

Thaddeus hums and takes a sip of wine. “Can’t you have a little faith in me, John? Just go up to her and talk for a bit. Try to figure out what she thinks about getting married herself some day.” 

John nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Are you trying to say I should ask her to marry me?” 

“Not yet— Just… In general, I mean. There is no rush behind all of this, you know? Just ask what she thinks of becoming a wife, and try to figure out if she hints at her feelings for you.” 

“Her feelings for me?!” John sputters.

Thaddeus hums, grinning a bit. 

“Oh, John. Have some faith, okay? Go talk to her.” 

“Now?” 

Thaddeus nods. 

The younger son of Zebedee stands, wiping his clammy palms down his tunic, and starts walking in your direction, hoping to have some of your time. 

Thaddeus clears his throat, causing him to halt.

“John?” 

He turns and looks at his friend.

“Yes?” 

“I pray that your wedding is the next one we’ll be celebrating.” 

Matthew | Speak Love | Romantic

Matthew learns about the languages of love and wonders if physical touch is something he could ever get used to when it involves you.

Requested by Emmy

Matthew is staring — gaze fixed upon a couple sitting on a flight of stairs in the busy streets of Jerusalem - his heart racing inside his chest as he notices how close they are sitting. Something nervous swirls inside his gut as their legs brush together, a blush forming over his cheeks, as if he knows he isn’t allowed to watch. It’s rude to stare, he knows, blinking rapidly as he tears his eyes away from the married man and woman sitting almost intimately like that in public. Why he was having such a strong reaction to this seemingly unimportant and harmless display was something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

Philip walks up next to him, sliding a jug of milk into the basket around Matthew’s arm, nearly concluding their little shopping trip to the market safe from having to stop to get bread on the way back. A knowing hum leaves Philip’s throat as he notices something is bothering him, lowering his voice as he leans towards Matthew as to not startle him.

“What’s on your mind?” 

In spite of Matthew not staring at the couple anymore, he still jolts, feeling as if he’s being caught red-handed. Philip frowns a bit at the disproportionate reaction. 

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.

“Yeah— Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” Matthew clears his throat, fiddling with his handkerchief as he adjusts the strap of the bag around his shoulder, “I was just thinking, is all.”

“What are you thinking about, then?” 

The former tax-collector is almost too embarrassed to admit it, but he knows Philip well enough to realise that he won’t allow him to brush it off when his brow is furrowed like that. Matthew takes a moment to gather himself before nodding towards the couple sitting together. 

“Them.” 

Philip follows the gesture, letting his eyes fix upon that same pair, who are chatting and feeding one another grapes. He is almost inclined to immediately look away, feeling he’s imposing on a private moment even though it is happening in public, before realisation dawns on him.

“Oh… Right.” 

Matthew is a bit confused at that. “What do you mean?” 

“Okay, why don’t you tell me, Matthew… What is your question?” 

“If uh… If two people are together… Are they like… Supposed to be close like that?” 

Philip thinks for a moment, pursing his lips. “Ah… It’s natural for most people who love one another to have the urge to be close to their partner. It causes a happy, content feeling.” 

Matthew tilts his head a bit as he weighs Philip’s words. 

“As for your question whether if it has to be that way, I’d say no. Everyone has a different way of telling their spouse that they love them. Love and appreciation can be displayed through kind words, acts of service, and many more other ways. There is no right and wrong when it comes to this.” 

Matthew ponders the words for a bit. “I… I’ve been wondering what it would feel like to hug… Hug someone. Someone I care about a lot.” 

“I see.” 

“But I don’t know if I’d… If I’d like it all that much. Usually I don’t like being touched. I don’t even know if she’d—” Matthew’s voice trails off as it dawns on him that he’s revealed more than he’d wanted to, but Philip gives him a knowing chuckle.

“I’m sure that (Y/n) would be open to help you out with that. All you need to do is ask her. After all, she’s a very patient woman, especially when it comes to you. If she cares for you as much as I can see, there is nothing for you to be nervous about. There is nothing wrong with taking it slow and trying what works for you.” 

The two of them round a corner as they walk back towards camp slowly, taking their time to continue with their conversation.

“Do you really think so? I… I don’t even know if (Y/n) likes me in that way, you know? I-I mean… She’s extraordinarily beautiful— Before she came along, I thought Mary was the prettiest and that a more beautiful woman would never exist, but then… Then she just… You know… Changed everything? Is that the right way to say it?” 

Philip chuckles at that, nodding at his friend. 

“The message you are trying to convey is pretty clear, Matthew.” 

A brief silence hangs between them before Philip speaks again. “But trust me, you’ve got nothing to be concerned about. I’m not an expert when it comes to reading women, but (Y/n) is pretty obvious when it comes to expressing how she feels about you. I mean, she constantly defends you whenever Simon or the Thunder Brothers pick on you, or looks out for you whenever you seem to struggle in certain situations. It’s crystal clear that she is very fond of you. And… I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks nobody is watching her. I’m pretty confident in my findings.” 

Matthew cannot fight the slight blush creeping over his cheeks. Whereas some of the other Disciples liked to pull his leg from time to time, he knew that Philip wouldn’t mess with him in that way, under no circumstance. A sudden wave of confidence circles around his chest. Matthew tightens his grip on the basket in his hand.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything, just know I’m speaking the truth. Only do things you are comfortable with, and (Y/n) as well of course, and explain to her what you would like to try out.” 

“What if I don’t like it?” 

“I’m sure she will understand if you don’t like it. There are plenty of other ways to show your appreciation. Just make sure to be honest in it all. And if it’s not your thing, that’s totally fine. But as long as you don’t try, you can’t know for sure, hm?” 

Philip puts a hand on Matthew’s shoulder, who doesn’t flinch. Not anymore when it comes to his friend beside him. He gives a gentle squeeze before releasing him again.

“So, we need to get some more bread before heading back to camp. Did you take note of what Jesus asked for?” 

“Ah, yes. Three rye loafs, seven flat breads, twelve buns.” 

With their shopping list in mind, the two head over to the next stall.

_ 

Matthew’s thoughts won’t leave him alone as he watches you do the dishes at the other side of the fire, the bowls and cups sloshing around and colliding in the water as you work, pulling utensil after utensil out of the warm liquid, clean and ready to be dried and used again. Matthew collects himself and grabs the cutlery you’ve washed to wipe them on the rag in his hands, looking at your face every so often in an attempt to ground himself. The fact that the fire makes you look even more beautiful than you are doesn’t make it any easier for him. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him, sensing that something is up. 

“Nothing.” he quickly tells you. “Just a bit tired from today. I’ve been talking to Philip and he’s always good at giving me food for thought.” 

“Oh yeah?” you muse, “What was the topic today? Another Psalm to ponder about?” 

“Not really.” 

“Then what?” 

“About um… About ways of expressing our love and gratitude for people. How it is different for everyone and that this also counts for personal relationships.” 

You hum, pursing your lips in thought. “Oh, that’s interesting. Like… Saying kind words to people?” 

“Yes… And… Helping out with something they’re struggling with. Or just doing a chore for them, too. Acts of service.” 

Slowly nodding, you put another bowl down right as Matthew reaches out for another, his fingers brushing against yours by accident. He feels a jolt go through him, but not necessarily a bad kind of sensation. He quickly withdraws his hand, his heart racing inside his chest. You give him a small smile, oblivious to the way that just made him feel.

“What other ways are there?”

“There’s, uh… Spending time together. Doing things with one another, no matter what. Maybe going for a walk, or— Or going fishing, or going to market.” 

“Quality time.” you muse, smiling softly. “Does doing the dishes together count?” 

Matthew is taken aback by that question, especially since it’s accompanied by a sweet smile that makes his heart drum even harder, and after a moment of figuring out his thoughts he swallows hard and nods.

“I—I suppose so. There’s uh… There’s also giving gifts.” 

“Presents are always fun to get. But a dangerous one, too, in case a person has bad intentions. In that case, they could shower the person with gifts in order to win their favour.” 

The former tax-collector gulps. “Ah… Yeah, I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

“But if it is given with a good heart, I think it’s a nice way to tell someone you care about them. Have you ever received any gifts?” 

Matthew clears his throat, blinking rapidly as he tries to think of an answer. After all, it isn’t necessarily where he wants to steer the conversation towards.

“I… Sure, a few times. And you?” 

“I have.” 

Something almost disappointed swells inside his chest.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, from either friends or family.” you clarify, rinsing another plate.

The disappointment quickly makes place for relief as Matthew exhales, smiling a little. 

“There’s one more way to show someone you care about them.” 

You give Matthew a curious look as he blurts it out. 

“Yes?” you muse.

“There’s uh… Giving hugs— I mean, physical touch. I… Some people like to do that and others don’t.” 

A patient smile spreads over your face. “I see. And I understand that physical touch is not really your thing, which I can get behind. It’s not part of everyone’s comfort zone to be touched by others. There is nothing wrong about that.” 

“No! I—I mean… I…” Matthew pushes his handkerchief into his palm with his thumb, squeezing it a little. “What I am trying to say is that… It… Might not be my usual way of expressing that I like someone, but… I… I would like to at least try it out, you know?” 

Tilting your head a bit in puzzlement, you watch him nervously fidget with the piece of fabric in his hand. Matthew swallows hard as he realises you need some more elaboration. He takes a deep breath. “Would you… Would you be open to the idea of hugging me to see if… If with you, it’s different? Since you and I are going to… You know, since I want to ask your father whether I could… Have your hand…” 

A soft smile spreads over your face as he explains himself, an understanding expression coming over your features. “Oh, Matthew. Of course. It’s good that you’re asking me such a thing and being so open about it.” 

He relaxes his tense shoulders a bit as he hears your positive answer, lacking judgement.

“Would you like to try it now?” Matthew queries, afraid he’ll refrain from it altogether if he allows reluctance time to grow, and you give him a look.

“Sure, but… Don’t we need a chaperone for that? After all, it’s not very… Common to embrace your betrothed without the company of a chaperone.” 

“I… We are not yet betrothed…” There is innocence in Matthew’s words, causing you to smile a little, “But yes, I know we’ll need a chaperone to make sure nothing inappropriate will happen.”

Tapping your chin, you let your gaze go over the camp. “Someone… Like Philip?” 

Matthew nods. “Yeah, that would be good. He wouldn’t judge us, or make fun of us for it.” 

Humming, you smile. “It’s settled, then. Let’s find Philip and give it a go.” 

Standing up, the two of you head over to the friend in question. You clear your throat to get his attention, and you don’t even have to ask him the question to let him know what is going on.

“Phil—” 

“Sure, let’s see it. Pretend I’m not here.” 

Matthew rubs his neck, fiddling with his handkerchief for a second. He seems to be deliberating something inside his mind, thinking deeply as he looks at the small rag inside his palm.

Then, he does a step in your direction — looks around to see if anyone is watching other than your mutual friend — and feels himself exhale when he realises you are alone. For some reason, he feels nervous even though he’s stood in front of you countless times before. You can’t say you don’t feel the same way. 

“So… Just tell me if it’s too much. No means no and that is okay, too.” 

Matthew nods and you open your arms a bit, waiting for him to make the first move. He gingerly steps forward, loops his arms around your waist as you rest yours on his shoulders, testing the waters.

He gazes at you, his dark eyes filling with something tender. You smile and he replies with the same expression, biting his lip as he drinks in the sight of you. Stepping forward, he dares to take you in his arms, and yours instinctively slide around his neck to hug him.

Matthew stiffens at first, wondering what he is supposed to feel. Then, he feels the tension leaving his shoulders, his arms, his entire form. He dares to close his eyes as he smells your subtle scent, your hair, your soap. Before he knows it, the former tax-collector tightens the embrace. 

Then, without him even comprehending what is going on, the handkerchief falls from his grip. His fingers must be so relaxed against your back that it slides out and falls to the dirt below. Philip looks at it and smiles at the gentle scene unfolding. 

Your hearts beat as one as you stand this closely together and you smile so hard that your head starts to spin. Even after months on the road, Matthew’s robes still give off their expensive scent, but something entirely him manages to come through. You drown into it, sinking further into the embrace, your head buried into the crook of his neck.

Philip clears his throat to remind you that he is still there, and part of you feels disappointed that he interrupted, even though you agree that neither of you can afford to get carried away in the moment. Your heart hammers against your chest as your mind feels fuzzy with giddiness. Matthew smiles down at you, beaming with joy. 

“That was wonderful.” he whispers. “Thank you for that. For allowing… Me to embrace you. That means a lot.” 

“Of course,” you murmur, “Don’t mention it. The pleasure is all mine. I wouldn’t mind trying that again some time.” 

Philip raises an eyebrow at you upon your comment, causing you to chuckle. Matthew slides his arm away from your waist and drops it back to his side, immediately making you miss his warmth.

“Something else should happen for that, first.” Philip reminds you, giving you a knowing smile. “But neither of you should be worrying about that, really. After all, I know that we might be stopping by in your hometown soon, (Y/n).” 

You hum, smiling softly at Matthew, before letting your gaze avert a bit. When your eye falls onto the handkerchief, your grin falls into something more serious, yet soft enough to be gentle. Matthew follows where you are looking and realises he must have let it fall to the soil below. The white linen is already collecting dust. 

Philip steps away, leaving the two of you alone. In silence, you stand there, watching the handkerchief before looking at one another. Weighing the options. Wondering what Matthew will do.

He doesn’t pick it back up again.